Crossing the Threshold
by MrsMalfoy288
Summary: Draco Malfoy has been chosen as Head Boy in his final year at Hogwarts. And just who do you think is Head Girl? Of course, it's that know-it-all Granger. So you know there will be plenty of bickering, arguing, and insulting coming their way.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: Hi all! I know this is a slightly clichéd theme, but you've got to love it! Enjoy!**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I make a profit from this story.**

Prologue

He walked briskly amongst the throngs of people. Like he was accustomed to, they involuntarily parted before him by the way his demeanor and person exuded power and wealth.

Platform 9 ¾ was bustling with activity. Parents were waving their children off, some teary goodbyes were being made, friends called out to one another and boarded the train, and there was an all around air of excitement and energy that seemed to pulse around.

Draco Malfoy entered the train and made his way to the front where, as a Head Boy, he was supposed to share a compartment with the Head Girl for the whole trip. He didn't know who it was, but hoped it would be someone he could get along with. As for himself, he meant to make the most of his last year at Hogwarts and make his father proud. Both his parents had been thrilled when he received the letter from Hogwarts stating that he was to be Head Boy. His mother had fawned over him, while his father had clapped him on the back and gave his son a small nod of approval. He expected nothing less from his son.

With his bags in place, he settled down to rest for awhile. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a light sleep.

xxx

Hermione Jane Granger was punctual as usual, boarding the train only a minute or so before it left the station. Her parents had been ecstatic when a letter from Hogwarts came stating her new role as Head Girl. In the bottom of her heart, a small part of her had always known that she would receive that honor. Hopefully the Head Boy would be someone she could get along with. As long as it wasn't a Slytherin, she would be fine. Well it wasn't up to her to decide that, so she would make the best of it.

Opening the Heads' compartment door, she automatically began to close it again, her subconscious seeing, but not quite believing. Realizing that she was in fact at the right door, she pushed it open to find a smirking Draco Malfoy lounging on the opposite chair.

"What? Not expecting me here, Granger?" He put on a non-caring attitude, but on the inside, he was smoldering. _Granger? They expect me to work with Granger? I'm going to kill her! If she doesn't run away crying herself._ He dropped his smile then hissed, "Stay away from me and my stuff, and we won't have any problems."

Hermione rolled her eyes. _Like that will ever happen. Draco will find ways to make himself a right pain in the arse._ She didn't realize that he was thinking the exact same thing about her. There were a lot of things they would get to know about each other before the end of the school year.

She swung her bags onto the rack above her seat and sat next to the window. Watching the train pull out of the station, she tried to enjoy a few minutes of peace. Then she rose, "We have a Prefects meeting in the lounge in two minutes. Be there."

He didn't even acknowledge her statement, continuing to lie there with his eyes closed. When she left, he made sure she had gone, then slowly sat up and stretched. Even with the death of the Dark Lord, things hadn't changed much in his house. His father, cold-hearted and cruel, still acted like he always had. Draco found himself changing, but could not see any improvement in his father. He knew, however, that his mother loved him purely as her son, and not as the heir to the Malfoy throne.

He used to dream of becoming like his father. Inheriting his fortunes and business ventures. Ever since he was a little boy, his father filled him with the dream of becoming a Death Eater and serving the Dark Lord. His mother had protested, saying that he was too young to be hearing of all this. But his father believed in keeping his boy tough.

It had not been the best of childhoods, but he knew that he couldn't change his predicament, only what he made out of it.

Glancing at his watch as he walked out of his compartment, he saw that he was supposed to be at the lounge three minutes ago. He grinned. What a way to start off the year.

_**A/N: Well, I'll come out with the first chapter in a few days, just wanted to get this out there. Sorry it was so short. Please tell me what you think of it so far.**_

_**~Rachael**_


	2. Entering the Den of a Beast

**_A/N: Well, here's the first chapter! Good reading, and "Usurpo!"_**

Professor Minerva McGonagall led Hogwarts' two best students up a flight of stairs, down a corridor, and to a rather larger than life statue of some famous wizard of the past. She stopped in front of it and about-faced.

"This is the entrance to your Head dorms," she began, addressing them both. "You each will have your own bedroom located on either end of the common room you will both share. There is also one master bathroom with connecting doors to your rooms. You may call for a house-elf at any time for food or drinks. If you have any specific questions, you may ask me or the Headmaster. Well, good luck to you both. Make the most out of this year."

And with that, she turned briskly around and began striding back, when Hermione called out, "Wait, Professor, we don't know the password."

McGonagall gave a small smile. "Why, Miss Granger, you and Mister Malfoy may decide upon the password and then speak it to the statue in unison for the first time. That password will then be remembered until you change it. If you so choose to replace it, both you and Draco must both be present and speak the new password in unison. You cannot use the same password more than once." She looked each in the eyes. "Any more questions? No? Well then, I must be going."

Hermione turned around to face Draco. "Alright, Malfoy, we have to come up with a password, so let's put down some rules. It can't be anything that associates with either one of our houses or one that is crude. Also, it is apparent that each password we have to both agree upon. So that makes it simpler. Anything else?"

"Whatever, Mudblood," Draco sneered.

Hermione crossed her arms, irritated. "If you continue to act like a child, then I will be inclined to treat you as such."

Malfoy laughed. "What makes you think I give a dragon's bollocks for how you treat me? And for another matter, we are here arguing in the middle of a corridor at, gods know what time at night. I suggest we get on with choosing an acceptable password so that we may get inside."

"For once, Malfoy, you have managed to come up with a decent idea."

He stepped closer to her. Instinctively she backed up against the wall. He towered a good half-foot over her and she had to tilt her head so she could meet his eyes. "Let me tell you one thing, Granger," He spat the word out like it had a bad taste. "You'll find that I can be very agreeable, when I feel like it. But you would do best not to cross me or I could make your pathetic life even more miserable than it already is. Trust me."

He whipped away from her. "What about, 'Merlin's Underpants?' Or 'Potty Weasel,' a tribute to your dimwits of friends and to a stoned rodent."

Hermione frowned understanding that this would get nowhere fast. So, taking the initiative, looked to find some middle ground. "I have an idea," she piped up. "How about, 'Tantum pro optimus?'"

Malfoy smirked, "I think that will do, even if it only applies to one of us."

She rolled her eyes. "On the count of three. One... Two... Three."

Simultaneously, both intoned the words, "Tantum pro optimus." The statue, of which Hermione knew to be the famous sorceress, Circe, sprang aside to reveal a set of stairs heading upward. Draco stepped forward first and made his way up.

Hermione followed behind and both entered a marvelous common room. It was not as big as their house commons, but plenty big enough for two. On either side of the stairs were two large bookcases filled with books all the way to the ceiling. An armchair was settled in front of each one. Hermione was immediately entranced by the vast collection and began pouring over them all with look of bliss upon her face.

Draco snorted in derision. _Trust Granger to get excited just by a bunch of books._ He looked around. Opposite him was an enormous window. There was a window seat below it as well. On either side of that, there were two desks already filled with their books. On either wall were two fireplaces with two elegant armchairs for both. In the center, was a long coffee table parallel to the window and to the two large sofas bordering it. All in all, he was slightly taken aback at the perfect symmetry in the room. Next to the hearths were two doors. Draco assumed they led to their respective bedrooms.

Entering the door to the left, he shut his eyes at once recognizing the feeling of a room changing. When he felt the room cease its spinning, he opened his eyes to see a room bedecked in his own house colors. A four-post bed was situated in the center of the room against the far wall.

He sat at the edge, running his fingers across the green, silken bedspread. After several moments, he got up, grabbed a towel from the dresser and stepped into the bathroom for a shower.

Any person would have been in awe at this magnificent bathroom. Any person except for Draco Malfoy. Make no mistake; he was surprised at how much they were given as Head students. This bathroom was quite nicely furnished with a bath about the size of a small swimming pool, and a large shower that could probably hold up to at least five people and still have room to move around.

He stripped off his robes and stepped into the shower, turning the hot water on. As the warm stream poured on his back and the steam enveloped him, he felt his body begin to relax. His troubles and concerns were forgotten for this short time and he seemed to melt away his problems. If only life could remain like this forever.

**_A/N: Thank you for reading! The password that they chose was in Latin. Try looking it up. Remember: honey is sweet, but reviews are sweeter. Animadverto vos laxus!_**


	3. Whispers and Gossip

**_A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys, my computer was acting up. Anyways, did anyone figure out what their password means? Hint: It's in a dead language. Colto sopra!_**

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading, titled, "50 Ways to Charm a Dragon." She was sitting in the chair in front of the bookshelf, and, looking at the clock situated above the stairs, noticed that she had been there for over an hour.

Bolting out of her chair, she rushed to her room; dinner started in fifteen minutes. Stepping through the doorway, she felt the room begin to spin. Unaccustomed to having rooms shift before her eyes, she did not know to close them, thereby installing a nauseating headache behind her temples when it had stopped.

Stepping precariously about the still tilting room, she thought irritably, _Someone should really put a sign up about that._

Now she realized that the room was decked all in Gryffindor colors. She was immediately fascinated, having never seen such magic before, only having read about it. If only she had remembered before about it, maybe she wouldn't have such an urge to vomit over the plush, red carpet beneath her feet.

She grabbed a clean robe from the closet where her clothes had already been hung up and moved on to the bathroom. She was stunned. This was more than she could ever, in her whole life, hope to lay eyes on, let alone use. Her parents were dentists, for heaven's sake. They made a decent living and fought to get their precious girl what she wanted. But they were never, in the sense, rich. Hermione had never really thought much about it. She was perfectly happy spending away her time in the library, pouring over as many books as she possibly could.

She made her way to the sink and opened the tap. Turning the knob to cold, she splashed some water on her face and proceeded to brush her teeth.

Feeling much better, she turned to go back and noticed the lack of a second door. _Funny, I thought Professor McGonagall said that we would be sharing a bathroom._

As she was reaching out to the doorknob, she saw it jiggle. Seeing that it wouldn't open, the person on the other side rapped sharply on the door.

Hermione, thinking quickly, called, "Come in!"

She saw the handle jiggle again, then turn. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway.

"Hmm, interesting," he muttered to himself.

"I didn't lock it, so why could you not get in?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked at her like she had just asked why the sun rises in the morning. "Of course," he drawled, "when you came in, the door must have automatically locked behind you."

Not wishing to be outdone, Hermione cut in saying, "And when I allowed access, the door opened."

"Brilliant, Granger," Draco sneered. "Excellent job. You really are the brightest witch of us all. Do grace us with your never-ending supply of knowledge and wisdom again."

Hermione was seething. "You pompous prick! Why can't you keep your big mouth shut for five minutes so that we can get along decently for a little while? I am sorry that we have to live in close quarters like this—"

"Oh so you agree to move out then?"

She ignored him, "—but we have to at least attempt to see past our differences. Can you at least do that?"

Malfoy sighed. "I'm bored of your non-stop chatter. Is there an off switch on you?"

"Oh, you are insufferable!"

Hermione stormed past Malfoy and off to dinner. That foul-mouthed git. He was intolerable. Unbearable. Inconceivable! How could any mother give birth to that bastard of a son and not cry at the sight of him? How could anybody be forced to live with that?

Since their dorm was located on one of the higher floors, Hermione was one of the latter to arrive at the Great Hall for dinner. Finding Harry and Ron, she made her way there.

"Hey, Hermione! How is the Head Girl life treating you?"

"Not so great," she replied to Harry. "You won't believe who Head Boy is."

"Who is it?"

"I'll let Professor Dumbledore drop that particular bomb."

"Fine," Ron grunted. He looked briefly to Harry, a grin spreading over his face. "But you could tell us how the quarters are, right?"

Hermione giggled. "They're positively fantastic! I never thought we'd have such a posh place in our school."

Harry took a sip of water then indulged, "Well, I've never seen any of the teachers' rooms—"

Ron snorted. "Gods, I hope not!"

"—but I've heard they're even more extravagant. Especially the Headmaster's suite."

They were forced to stop talking when Professor Minerva McGonagall led a gaggle of trembling first-years up to the front of the Hall. A stool had been placed there and a certain Argus Filch came limping up the aisle, Sorting Hat in hand.

He placed it on the chair and hustled out the side door. McGonagall unrolled a length of parchment and called out the first name. The boy stepped forward hesitantly. Lifting up the hat from the stool, she motioned for him to sit. When he did as he was told, she placed the ratty thing on his head. After three or four breathless seconds, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The kid let out an audible sigh and proudly made his way to the cheering Gryffindor table.

This went on for a while as each child was sorted into their respective houses. Following that, the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, rose to speak.

"Students of Hogwarts. Much has been done since we last saw each other more than a year ago. To clear up any confusion that might still linger, or any doubts, let me say this. Tom Riddle, otherwise known as Voldemort, was killed. I will not bog you down with the details, but will tell you how very proud I am of all the brave souls that fought for our freedom.

"Thankfully, many a life was saved that day. However, I would like to take the time now for a moment of silence to honor and in remembrance of those who died for such a noble cause."

The already silent hall seemed to freeze in time. People frozen with heads bowed in grief, save for those whose tears for loved ones ran down their cheeks.

"Well, this year will proceed as usual and I hope that all of you will have learned life-long lessons by the time you leave our school. Before, you eat, I have a few announcements. First, let me introduce your new Head Students: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy." The two stood on their cue then sat down again, the students buzzing with incredulity.

"_Don't they hate each other?"_

"_How did a Mudblood get to be Head Girl?"_

"_Draco Malfoy? Isn't he a Death Eater?"_

Questions swirled around the Great Hall as Dumbledore motioned for them to quiet down.

"Both were the top of their class and now are rewarded with new responsibility. Remember that. Also, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher has been filled by Professor Cuthbert Merrythought, the grandnephew of Professor Galatea Merrythought. She was the DADA's former teacher many years ago. We will welcome Professor Merrythought with open arms, I'm sure. Now that introductions are done, let the feast begin!"

Food appeared on the tables, a most magnificent spread to mark the beginning of a new era.

**_A/N: Oh my god! How are Harry and Ron going to respond to this? And will Hermione and Draco get into another heated argument? I think this time, it's going to get personal! Okay, so keep reading! Vedilo la volta prossima!_**


	4. Some NotSoNice Words

_**Well, it has definitely been a while, hasn't it? I did hit a spell of writer's block, but I have cleared that wall now. I will assure you that I won't abandon this story. Really. I won't. So enjoy the next chapter, and "**__**Glede seg over**__**!"**_

Hermione spooned some food onto her plate with vigor. Right now her goal was to avoid the horrified looks that her Gryffindor friends were giving her.

Ginny was the first to recover. With the utmost concern for her friend, she asked, "Are you okay? Because I know a pretty nasty hex if he's said or done anything to hurt you."

That there was a good friend. Hermione smiled a watery smile. "Thanks, Gin, but he hasn't done anything that bad yet. I doubt that will stay the case but I appreciate the support."

Ron was so shocked, he was unable to eat. _A fact worthy of the Daily Prophet_, Hermione chuckled to herself. Harry, on the other hand was a bit more controlled. Taking a deep breath, he stated firmly, "He better not do anything to you, or he _will_ have to answer to _all_ of us."

Ron finally managed to gasp out, "How in Merlin's name could Ferret be Head Boy?"

"Well, he was top of the class, so that must be it."

"But he's a _Death Eater_, 'Mione, there has to be some bloody rule against having a Death Eater running the school!"

"First of all, Ronald, no one's ever proved that he actually **was** a Death Eater. Second, he's not going to be running the school, at least, not alone. Why do you think there are two Heads?"

"Why are you defending him, Hermione?" Harry cut in. "He's still Malfoy, and I don't care that his family was exonerated, I don't trust that ferret. The apple never falls far from the tree."

Ron stared befuddled at Harry. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? '_The apple never falls far from the tree..._' Did you drink some bad pumpkin juice?"

Hermione chose to explain, "It's a muggle saying, meaning, a child is always like their parents. In this case, Malfoy will always be like his father." Hermione shuddered. The first and last time she had met Lucius Malfoy, was under a rather stressful circumstance. "But the thing is, Harry, is that people aren't apples, and people change. He's probably been through some tough times and who knows what else."

Her chocolate brown eyes seemed stern. Harry, knowing that it was pointless to try and sway her mind when she became like this, backed off humbly. "Just be careful, all right?"

She nodded. Ron was still gaping like a fish.

Picking up her book bag, Hermione waved goodbye to everyone and walked out of the Great Hall. Everyone, including the teachers, all had their eyes tuned to the poor girl who was sharing space with Draco Malfoy. The Slytherin table however, was shooting daggers at what they thought was scum, unworthy to be in the presence of a fellow Slytherin. Pansy Parkinson in particular had turned her glare up to a degree that screamed, _KILL! _That Mudblood bitch had best watch her back. If she so happened to lay a finger on that Adonis body that was her Drakeypoo, well, let's just say she knew several spells that weren't necessarily illegal, but were damn painful.

* * *

Draco had endured all his friends offering their various assorted hexes and curses that they believed would, "set that Mudblood in her place." He understood where that anger was coming from. Almost all of them were purebloods, even if a few of them were halfbloods. They had been raised to accept this as a fact. He had had this lesson ingrained in his memory since before he could contemplate its truth value.

But he had begun to question its validity. This Mud—... Muggle-born, Granger, had thus far showed a profound depth and intelligence. Maybe they weren't so different as his father had led him to believe...

No. This train of thought was leading to a direction that he did not feel up to pursuing at that time. Too much. It was all too much to bear, what with his father, and then his _mother_. Oh, his mother. Too much. Not today...

* * *

Hermione pulled off her shoes and flopped on the bed. She had been looking forward so very much to the year that she had left here. Now it was immeasurably ruined by one slimy ferret. But there was no point in complaining, so it would have to suffice to come to a truce. Picking up a large tome from the table beside her bed, the bookworm that was Hermione sat on the couch to wait for her rival.

* * *

The door opened and Hermione woke with a start. Her book was lying across her tummy on the same page as when she had lain down in the first place. In a split second, she pulled out her wand and muttered, _"Tempus inictus."_ Small hands of a clock appeared, hanging in space and pointing to smaller, floating numbers. _Eleven-thirty at night,_ she thought,_ must have been out partying_. She knew the Gryffindor House had a party on the second day, so, maybe the Slytherin House had one today.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she peered over the back of the sofa to see Malfoy coming up the stairs. A small, green streamer was in his hair. Hermione smiled. He seemed to glow, he looked so happy.

Not noticing his observer, the blonde coming slowly into view snapped his fingers. Instantly, a scrawny house-elf Apparated into the room and bowed. "What would Master want?"

Studying his fingernails, Malfoy still didn't seem to see Hermione peering over the edge of the couch.

"Get me an iced tea, with ice, and a sliced apple. Leave it in my room. Got that?"

The house-elf bowed again. "Yes, sir!" he squeaked with vigor and Disapparated.

He let out a long sigh and opened his eyes again. Two brown eyes were staring at him from over the couch. He sneered, "Well, look who it is. Spying on me, were you, Mudblood?"

Hermione stood up, all the while still keeping eye contact, fury making them spark. "Perhaps you're not aware, but I do have a name. We are not children anymore, and I would expect you to treat me with civility. I guess I was wrong for thinking a mummy's boy like yourself would act anything other than a child. Well, you can't go running to her now, can you, Malfoy?"

All the while, Draco was bubbling with intense rage. This pretentious, over-emotional, nauseating, bitch of a girl, was talking to _him_ in such a manner? How dare she! "I know perfectly well who I'm calling a Mudblood. You disgust me in every way."

"You would know disgusting, wouldn't you, being that you're related to scum like your father!" Hermione had never exploded to any degree that could match the level of red she was seeing now. "How could your mother marry someone like that? Could it be that she was dumb as well as blind?" She knew she was hitting low, but something about this boy just lit a fire under her.

Quick as the snap of a whip, Malfoy had his wand out. His face looked as though it could kill. He walked slowly towards her brandishing his wand. "You do not talk about my parents. At. All. Do I make myself clear?"

Hermione mustered all her courage and stared back at those fiery eyes. Those deep, grey eyes. Wait...what was she thinking? She shook it out of her head. Her focus back, she remembered the situation. "Fine then. We shall make a deal."

Draco had a momentary look of shock on his face. That rapidly fell away as he chortled out loud. "Oh, that was a good one, Granger. Me? Make a deal with you?"

Speaking over his laughing, Hermione stated, unperturbed, "I will refrain from bringing up your parents and your upbringing, _IF_ you refrain from calling me a Mudblood. Can we reach an understanding?"

Was she serious? "Go to hell." As a second thought he sneered, "_Mudblood._"

She didn't think she could get anywhere with him. "Well, fine! If you want to live this whole year with constant bickering and arguing, then I will be more than happy to rise to the occasion. Forgive me for attempting to make this year, our last at Hogwarts, easier for both of us. But if you will continue to stomp your foot and keep your stubborn front, neither of us will benefit." Stepping to the side, she began walking off in the direction of her room.

"Wait."

She stopped and turned to see a resigned Draco Malfoy looking right back at her. "What?"

He sighed dramatically. "If you must be such a pest, I don't see how I will be able to get any rest with you nattering away at me at every chance. So for the sake of my sanity, yes, I will agree to your deal. Are you happy now?"

Hermione smiled wryly, "I'm ecstatic." She turned back around and continued to her room.

Draco watched her leave. He would never tell his friends any of this. If they knew that he had made a deal with Granger, they would laugh at him all the way out of town. No, he would keep it a secret. Another to add to the list. Entering his room, he sat heavily on the bed. He picked up the picture frame that was on his bedside table and let out a sigh. A real one this time. Setting it back down, he reached over, turned off the light, and got in bed, not bothering to change. Facing the photo, a single tear escaped and rolled down his cheek to fall on the pillow. Soon, sleep fell over him like a blanket and he fell fast asleep, dreaming of snow.

In the picture, a woman smiled back with just as kind, blue eyes, as snowflakes dusted her light blonde hair.

_**Well, I hope to get back soon with another chapter! Please review! Cookies will be granted to those kind enough to take a few moments to comment on this story! "Beholde flyttingen frem!" (Foreign Language Hint: Think where the Vikings came from...)**_

_**~Rachael**_


	5. A Long Day

**_Hello again! I know it's been a while, and I'm truly sorry, but here is the next chapter! Naslazhdatʹsya!_**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they all belong to that lucky duck, JKR.**

**Chapter 4 A Long Day**

Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had Herbology first thing that morning. As Professor Sprout was going on about the various uses of the Mouldhind fungi, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were engaged in their own private discussion.

From years of practice, she did not find it difficult to concentrate with the two gourds on either side of her. They were discussing some Quidditch play or something and could not deign to even pretend to be paying attention. _ Those boys should consider themselves incredibly lucky for the use of my notes._ Still, she was having trouble paying attention to Professor Sprout being acutely aware of the hushed whispering in the back corner. It was broken once in a while by smothered laughter and high pitched giggling. _ If that girl's not careful,_ Hermione thought, referring to Pansy,_ she will end up breaking every glass surface in this room with her squeals._

In a whisper clearly meant to reach her ears, Malfoy hissed, "You should have seen her nightie, ghastly thing. Reached all the way past her knees with lace that seemed to have been in style two centuries ago! My grandmother wouldn't be caught dead wearing that. Of course she was a pureblood witch, so who knows what crazy ideas of fashion those Muggles have."

Harry and Ron, who had stopped talking to listen, were flush with anger.

"I mean, who on earth would willingly wear something that horrible? Honestly, you'd think those Muggle parents of hers would have taught her something about style."

Ron leapt from the table, livid. Before Hermione had the chance to stop him, Ron had whipped out his wand, "You slimy git! You'll pay for that! _Saeta Incrementum!"_

In a split-second, the hex missed Malfoy by half a meter, hit a mirror, and then ricocheted back to hit Ron squarely in the chest. Immediately, all the hair on his body began to rapidly grow from his head, eyebrows nose, arms, etc.

Alarmed, Professor Sprout called over the din of laughing students, "Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, kindly escort Mr. Weasley to the infirmary."

By this point, Ron was starting to look like a bright red teddy bear. Harry and Hermione each took a furry arm to lead Ron out of the room. As they passed Draco, Blaise and Pansy, the Slytherin gang stopped laughing for a moment, but after another look at Ron, whose red beard was almost to his waist, they erupted into even harder laughter, falling on the floor and forgetting to breathe.

Hermione recalled Malfoy's "hysterical" story and racked her brain trying to think of how he had gotten a peek of her night gown, since usually they never saw each other out of day wear or even aside from Head duty. She then remembered the night before when she had gotten up in the middle of the night quite thirsty. She could have asked a house elf, but she did not wish to disturb them at this time. Instead, she had made her way to the mini kitchen that was provided for them as a small extension to their common room. She thought she had heard a door close in the direction of Draco's room but dismissed it in her groggy state. _That was my favorite nightie, _she thought morosely.

Harry saw her furrowed brow and smiled encouragingly at her as they walked through the halls. "Don't pay attention to a single thing he said, 'Mione. He's just a ferret." Hermione gave a crooked smile back.

Finally, they had reached the infirmary and by this point, Ron looked like a copper red Abominable Snowman. Hermione pointed this out to Harry under her breath (even they had found the incident quite amusing). Ron saw this relay and gestured to his ears, yelling, "Wot? I can't quite hear you through all this hair in my ears." Hermione shook her head, smiling, and Harry grinned waving off his query as the nurse walked toward them.

"My goodness! What happened here?"

"Hair growth hex," Hermione explained.

"Well, I just stocked up on that particular potion." Madam Pomfrey bustled about. "Good thing you didn't come yesterday or I would have had to use a balding spell. Ah, here it is." She took out a small white vial and handed it to Ron who had gone white at the very possibility of having to go bald. "Drink up, dear."

Ron hesitantly reached for the vial, uncorked it, and gulped down its contents.

After about twenty minutes had passed, Ron's hair had finally stopped growing. They called Madam Pomfrey who tutted, "Now you must wait another ten minutes before I can give you the hair shrinking potion." She shook her finger at the hair-covered Ron. "I hope this teaches you to think before you hex!" She looked so stern that the three of them nodded like bobble heads.

Harry had been explaining the rules of Wizard Chess to Hermione with Ron bedridden and furry, as Fred and George walked in. They were leading a small second-year who was a particularly nauseous shade of green. They sat him down on a nearby cot, trying to calm the poor boy.

Harry motioned to the boy, "One of your Wizarding Wheezes, I presume?"

George shrugged as Fred bowed with a grin on his face. "We were just trying out a new variation and it was only suppo-… Merlin's beard. George, I do believe that is our beloved brother."

It was impossible to recognize Ron's face, but anyone could tell a Weasley from a mile away. George peered at the human-shaped carpet in the cot behind Hermione and Harry. "Why, it is our darling Won Won! I'm not sure how this happened, but I definitely want to remember this moment!"

Fred and George were laughing hysterically as Madam Pomfrey strutted back in with a bottle in her hand. She handed it to Ron. "Here's the potion. Drink all of it."

"Bottom's up," winced Ron as he gulped the contents down. He sputtered and coughed for a bit, and then his bodily hair began to indeed shrink.

"That should stop when it reverts back to normal, but you might have a little more hair than usual." Madam Pomfrey proceeded to examine the second-year that had been brought in. "Don't tell me he's another one of yours," she said, glaring at the twins with her hands on her hips. They shrugged and she sighed. Oh the woes of caring for children with access to magic.

The two turned back to Ron, badgering him, "Man, you should have joined the circus when you had the chance," and "We had always wanted a puppy," Etc.

When Ron's beard had finally gone from floor to chest length, and it was clear that he would not respond or even look at Fred or George, the twins turned to Hermione.

"So…" Fred prompted.

"How's life—"

"Living with—"

"That bouncing ferret, Malfoy?"

She smiled at them, "Just peachy."

George dropped the smile looking serious. "Hey, just let us know if he gives you any trouble, okay? We'll beat the crap out of him and have him flying for the hills."

Hermione tried to suppress a knot that was rising in her throat. She was so lucky to have friends who would stick with her so truly. "You Weasleys are so protective."

"That's us!" Fred chimed. "Through thick and thin, we stick to our mates."

He moved to Ron's side and socked him in the arm. "Isn't that right, Ron?"

"Ow!" Ron exclaimed. "And where were you when I was under attack from that garden gnome? Nasty little bugger, I still have the scars!"

"That's different," George stated matter-of-factly.

"That builds character," Fred continued with an equally straight face.

"And my dear brother—"

"You need the character," the twins chorused together.

Ron scowled as Hermione tried to cover a giggle unsuccessfully. She found the pair of them quite amusing and always appreciated their company. Although they were only a week into the year, she had been getting quite stressed, and it was only a matter of time before her frazzled state snapped. She was glad for moments like this that helped her keep her cool.

* * *

Draco breathed out a sigh as he trudged up the stairs heading to his dorm room after a long day. After that morning's incident of hilarity, the rest of his classes had been dull as ever and he had been assigned three feet of parchment on the origin, purpose, enactment, and side effects of the Disillusionment charm. He had already finished his potions assignment in his study hour, but he had yet to start this particular menace.

As he was walking down the corridor, close to his rooms, he heard a shrill call from behind him, "Drakeypoo, wait!" He groaned and Pansy caught up to him, throwing herself on him, draping herself in the most annoying way.

She put on her (as she thought) most adorable pout, saying, "I haven't seen you at all! You haven't been hiding from me have you?"

"Don't call me that, you know I hate it. And no, Pans, I haven't been hiding from you, I've just been a bit busy lately with the whole Head Boy thing. "

She had backed him against the wall. He was grateful that this was a very low-traffic area of the school.

Pansy ran her fingers through Draco's silky, platinum hair and down his cheek to his lips. "Shh, don't talk of work, I know a way to make all your worries slip away…" On the word "slip," she slid her hand down his chest to lower regions.

Draco smirked. Was she really going to do this here? Now? Slightly annoyed at losing precious work time, he was hardly going to say no to such a worthwhile offer. He decided that his essay could wait. A greater good called.

Just reach inside his robes, Draco swept Pansy off her feet and carried her bridal style up to his rooms. "You set that up, didn't you, you naughty little minx," he growled into her neck as he walked in and shut the door to his bedroom.

* * *

The trio walked out of the Great Hall after dinner. Ron was doing much better, only his eyebrows seemed to be shaggier than usual and his hair looked to be permanently unkempt. They were discussing their Potions assignment of identifying the ingredients in the Weedosoros poison and describing its use in an essay.

"I can't believe how much homework we get even though it is only the second week of school!" Harry bemoaned. "Only think of what it's going to be like as we approach our N.E.W.T.s."

Hermione scoffed. "How else can they prepare us? Even on the first day of Arithmancy, we were given enough to keep me busy for a few hours."

"Well that's what you get for taking a good for nothing subject like that," Ron harrumphed, his stride resembling a strut of soreness. "It's just not practical!"

"Shows what you know," Hermione retorted. "I find my curriculum to be challenging but at the same time, interesting to me."

Ron turned to her and smiled a watery smile, "You're really smart, 'Mione." This earned a weird look from both his friends and he quickly backtracked, "So could you look over our Potions essay for us?"

Harry played along with Ron. He knew something was up and decided to ask about it later, in private. "Take pity on him, Hermione, he spent two hours in the infirmary today!"

"For excessive hair growth!"

Harry couldn't resist a grin at that, "Yes, but he still is suffering from the trauma of it all."

Hermione rolled her eyes and consented to proof-reading their essays in the morning. It would give her some needed practice.

They neared her dorms and made to part ways when Ron said, "Are you sure we can't come in and take a look around? I've always wanted to see the Head common room."

"I'm sorry guys, but there's a rule of no visitors after nine on a weekday. But listen, you can visit on Sunday afternoon, how about that?"

Harry smiled back. "Fine with us." He took Ron by the elbow and led him away protesting.

Hermione walked to the door, murmured the password, _tantum pro optimus_, and sat herself at her desk to work away.

When she had finally finished her assignments, she fixed herself a large mug of hot chocolate, sat herself in the armchair, picked up her book of the history of famous wizards, good and bad. She had liked it so far, as it gave a new spin of philosophy and psychology to give the reader a thorough understanding of individual mindsets. She glanced at the closed door to Malfoy's bedroom. _If only I had even a small understanding of _that_ mind_.

_**Well there you have it! For those of you who are curious, I received my inspiration for Ron's ailment from a particular episode of Bugs Bunny and a certain red, hairy monster. I think it's called Hair-Raising Hare, and if you haven't seen it, you should, because it's a classic. Chapter Five will be out soon and perhaps you might learn a little about Draco...*wink* Please review! Do svidanʹya!**_


	6. Painful Secrets

**_Okay, here is another chapter, just like I promised! Thanks to TheLovelySarcastic and IceSkater76 for reviewing! A little heads up, this chapter is a bit dark, and it was somewhat difficult for me to write, so I hope it's okay. Also, I'm gone on vacation these next two weeks, so I'll try my best to write in the meantime. So without further ado, Slām!_**

**Chapter 5 Painful Secrets**

"Please, Draco, can't I spend the night?" Pansy pleaded, placing her hands on his chest. "Like we always used to?"

Draco held her hands away from him. He looked her straight in the eyes. "I have work to do and you're not even supposed to be here on a weeknight."

She frowned. "Says who? That stupid Mudblood Granger? It's no wonder; who would want to visit her any night?"

This garnered a smirk out of Draco, "Actually, it was on the rules of the place that we were given at the beginning of the year."

Sensing her opportunity, Pansy quickly lowered her lashes and looked up at him coyly, murmuring huskily, "Since when were you one to follow rules, Draco Malfoy?"

Draco pulled her in and gave her one last kiss before he said, "Since I became Head Boy." He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe another night, okay, Pans?"

She sighed and nodded, opening the door and striding out, inwardly hurt, but concealing it carefully. She saw Hermione seated in the far armchair and spat, "What are you looking at, Granger?"

Hermione said nothing, matching the girl's glare, until Draco walked out next to Pansy. "You do know that it's rude to stare?" Draco asked her calmly.

"And you do know that you're not allowed to have visitors after nine?" Hermione returned.

Draco walked Pansy to the door and wished her a goodnight, blatantly ignoring the frizzy-haired chit. He finally turned back to her after shutting the door. "You should mind your own business, little girl," he said forcefully to her.

"It is my business when it comes to our common room. Learn some respect for shared property."

"Good god, Granger, what are you, my mother?"

"No, but I believe we can find a pig to fill her place just nicely."

Malfoy had his wand out and at the ready just as Hermione was reaching for hers. "_Impedimenta!_" he shouted before she brought out her wand.

Nothing happened.

Hermione was flinching, but quickly recovered, faster than Draco who seemed too shocked to do anything, and pointed her wand, yelling, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Again, nothing happened.

They stared at each other, stunned, until they heard a small "_pop_" come from the center table. Turning slowly to look, they saw a small piece of parchment folded there. As Hermione was closer, she picked it up, opened it, frowned, and handed it to Draco who read it in turn.

_To Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy,_

_I distress that this letter might have reached you at a bad or stressful time. I had hoped that the two of you would get along, but in aversion to any incidents, your rooms prevent you from performing any defensive or attack magic. I hope that this does not cause any inconvenience._

_Professor Dumbledore_

"That bleeding, sodding, ancient man," Draco muttered. He looked over at Hermione who was glaring right back, clearly pissed. He smiled patronizingly at her. "Look's like he thought of everything, didn't he."

She looked away and in the blink of an eye he had closed the gap between them and still towered over her.

"It seems to me," Draco sneered, "that we have reached an impasse. Obviously, deals cannot be made with _filthy Mudbloods_." He said the last words with particular emphasis and was pleased when he saw sparks in the girl's now wide eyes.

"The war is over!" she vented. "Your side lost! When will this prejudice end?"

"If I'm not mistaken, you also refused to let go of your preconceived notions of me."

"Most of which were proven quite soon to be accurate."

"How can you preach about something that you yourself can't follow? Do you know what that's called? Hypocritical!"

"Do you know what's hypocritical? The fact that you mock my blood status, and thereby my family, when your father should be rotting in Azkaban! All those crimes he committed just pale in comparison to my parents being muggles, do they?"

"Don't you talk about my fath––"

"Then how about your mother who let him back into your home even though he murdered in cold blood?"

"My mother is dead!"

Silence spread over the room like a blanket. Draco was breathing hard unlike Hermione who was holding her breath for dear life, shocked at this revelation.

_Impossible_, she thought._ The newspapers had been talking about their family ever since the end of the war_. She hadn't heard anything about the death of Narcissa Malfoy.

Draco sighed, backing off and sitting on the couch. He put his head in his hands. "I don't want your pity, okay?"

Hermione was not actually looking at him with pity, but sorrow. She sat down next to him, but not too close, giving him his space. Finally she spoke. "How did it happen?"

He took in another deep breath. A few moments passed. When Hermione thought he wouldn't answer, she heard his whisper.

"It was the near the end of the war. We were confident after one particular success. Then your people ambushed us."

Hermione remembered that summer day that had turned the battle tide. They had lost several in number, but they had valiantly taken down a good number of Deatheaters with them.

"You may or may not know, but someone on our side betrayed the Dark Lord to the Order."

She had known that someone on the inside had given them the vital information of the meeting's location, but she had always believed it had been Snape.

"You may have thought it was Snape."

_Did he read my mind?_ Hermione thought incredulously, anxious to hear this next piece of news.

"It wasn't. It was me."

Hermione had to process this. That must have been why Dumbledore was so secretive about the information and why he had seemed sad about it somehow.

"I knew that someone would find out, but I wanted to help anyway. I knew that this could be a deciding factor for the outcome of the war and thought that soon I would be safe. Unfortunately, my mother found out that it was me. At first she cried, but then, a new and frightening resolve came into her eyes. I was worried at what she would do, but didn't pay much attention at the time. That is, until Bellatrix confronted our family in front of the Dark Lord and his followers.

"She began about how someone in the room had betrayed us all, including the Dark Lord himself. That got everyone's attention, as I'm sure you can guess. Not many people are crazy enough to betray Lord Voldemort. Voldemort demanded who and my mind went blank. I thought, This was it, I had hoped to live to see the end of the war, but apparently my luck had run out. You can imagine my surprise when Bellatrix pointed at my mother."

Hermione her felt eyes glisten and was glad that Draco was not looking at her because he would surely be angry at the tear she shed for his tragic story.

"My heart froze and almost shattered as I understood why my mother had looked so determined the past few days. And she had that same 'set' look as she stepped forward. My father was stunned at first then, like the loyal dog he was, he defended himself to Lord Voldemort vehemently, denying all connection to the, in his words, 'Lying bitch' and 'traitorous slut'." He spat the words out, disgusted by even the thought of them. "He continued to deny my involvement as well, but then went on to say that his wife was below any attention. She knew nothing else of importance, after all.

"It was a weak effort, but an effort nonetheless. And that's when I understood. This had all been planned. Everything from Aunt Bella accusation, to my mother's blame, and my father's attempt to shield our family. I was horrified at how I had caused this and it had spiraled completely out of my control. I thought I had been ready to die, but I realized then that I was surely not ready for the end of my life. I was horrified that I had been selfish. This wasn't about me any more.

"I tried desperately to speak on behalf of my mother, but my lips would not open. It seems that someone did not want me to interrupt those proceedings. I had to watch, unable to do anything, as my father's protests were ignored and my mother was dragged before the Dark Lord. There, Voldemort killed my mother in front of her family. I could hear the Deatheaters laughing, but my mind had gone numb. My mother, the only person who had truly loved me in the world, was dead. My father stoically took her body and she was buried. But not in our family grounds, of course, she was a traitor and was buried far away from the rest of the family. After Voldemort's death, we reburied her in the Malfoy family cemetery.

"I still hear her voice and think of her all the time." He gave a raw laugh. "Even my current memories can't accept the truth and I've imagined her there for me when I received my letter for Hogwarts being chosen as Head Boy, or even walking with me in the gardens. I feel like I am going mad sometimes."

Draco waited, and then turned to Hermione who had already wiped away her tears. "Do you know, I haven't told anyone my story? Of course, the children of the Deatheaters have all found out, which, I'm not sure if you've noticed, is why I haven't been hanging around with Crabbe or Goyle as much. My fellow Slytherins will stick by me, but for some, it's harder with the knowledge that my mother was a traitor."

Hermione looked straight back at him, only determination in her eyes as he finished his explanation. "Do you remember what I said earlier? The war is over."

Draco was startled. He had expected pity, or comfort, neither of which he was willing to face, not this fire. He waited for her to explain.

"You have the chance to start a new life for yourself. You did what you had to and that led to the end of long violence. Yes, your mother died to protect you, but she did it, so that you might have that new life that you had apparently wanted so much as to risk your life."

Draco furrowed his brows. He had never thought of it that way before. His mother_ had _given him a second chance. This _was_ what he had wanted, what he had imagined when he contacted Dumbledore with such important news, the end to the war and the beginning of a new life that wasn't filled with terror. He felt _elated_. Why hadn't he thought of this before? Grief had overridden his understanding of his mother's final act, but Granger had brought it back. He was indeed free.

* * *

They sat there for awhile until Hermione got up from the chair. Draco looked at her. "_Accio Butterbeers,_" she said, pointing her wand at the bar in the kitchen. Two mugs of the foaming drink sailed into her hands. She handed one to him and sipping hers, said, "Well, I can't seem to believe that you have finished your homework, so here's some drink to ease the hard work."

He gave a watery smile and took a swig from his mug. "Thanks," he said just loud enough for her to hear.

"Don't mention it. Now, to work."

**_So that was a startling revelation! I had planned this from the beginning, b_****_ut it was still hard for me to write. And I did leave a clue in the third chapter...If you caught that, good for you! Here's a virtual cookie. I love reviews! They really do make my little world go round! Wdāʻā Lālʼān!_**


	7. Potions of Wrath

_**So after a year or so, I'm finally getting back into writing! Thanks for sticking with the story if you've been with me from the beginning. I know I hit a wall, but I found a way over it, so expect some new chapters soon! A big thank you to all my reviewers and the one reader who begged me to add Neville to a scene. I know this is kind of filler, but it was necessary (and you can never have too much Severus Snape). So here you go, the sixth chapter! And a Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate it!**_

**Chapter 6: Potions of Wrath**

Hermione woke up from her groggy state and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. In a flash, what she remembered of last night came flooding back to her, but she just couldn't believe it. _Did last night really happen? It feels like just a dream, and highly unlikely that it happened._ Still, it was such a crazy tale, that she found herself believing its air of truth to some degree. According to last night, Malfoy's mother died protecting him from Voldemort's wrath after he had betrayed the Deatheaters and given away a vital location of one of their meetings that would become a turning point of the war._ Is this really the truth of it?_

She walked into the bathroom and washed her face to invigorate her still sleepy mind. The cool water did wake her and cleared her thoughts. It was a fact. Last night, Malfoy had revealed another side of himself, a new vulnerability. He had, even unwillingly, opened up to Hermione in such a way that she found endearing. But she didn't know how she was going to act around him now. Would it be awkward?

Walking back into her bedroom, she glanced at the wall where a large grandfather clock stood and gasped. Eight-fifteen already? _I'm going to be late for potions!_

Probably the worst class to be late for, she was going to have to run. Throwing her school robes on, she grabbed a banana, stuffed it in her bag and ran out the door. How could she have woken up that late? She never slept with an alarm as her internal clock automatically woke her up at six every morning? _And Malfoy couldn't be bothered to wake me up either, could he?_ Seems like he was handling the next morning just fine. She raced down to the dungeons, arriving at the large doors panting. Quickly she composed herself, smoothing her hair and robes, and took a deep breath. Then she, as quietly as she possibly could, opened the door just wide enough for her slim frame to pass through and silently closed the door. Still facing it, Hermione felt the eyes of her classmates on her anyway, one particularly malevolent stare boring into the back of her head, and, she presumed, a particularly smug smirk from one asshole, Draco Malfoy.

Fearing to turn around, though she knew she had to at some point, she did so slowly. It didn't help whatsoever that her suspicions were one hundred percent spot on in that every eye in the room had turned to see the head girl and ace of the class, Hermione Granger walk into class late. She wanted to slap that bloody smirk off his arrogant face, but was given no chance to do so as Snape addressed her from the front of the classroom.

"Thank you for joining us, Ms. Granger," he drawled. "I do hope this class wasn't an inconvenience to you. Perhaps we could arrange a later time to accommodate your beauty sleep hours? Though it seems they haven't done you a whiff of good yet. Pity."

The Slytherins had burst into laughter by his second sentence, but that last jibe sent them into howling chortles as they took in the sight of the birds nest on top of her head once more. _How many times must their laughter come at my expense,_ Hermione thought miserably. Her face was flushing and she was sure her ears had turned a bright shade of magenta. That is, if one could see her ears through the mass of hair she had not been able to de-frizz that morning. Thinking of it now, she realized a simple detangling spell would have worked just fine.

Now she made her way to the empty seat beside Neville who looked positively thrilled not to have to brew a potion alone, which, from previous experience and knowledge of Mr. Longbottom in general, could only lead to disastrous results. With Hermione, he had a higher chance of a less than disastrous result. Ron looked up sheepishly as Harry mouthed, "Sorry". It wasn't unusual for Hermione to spend her breakfasts at the library or studying some ancient rune, and the two boys had thought naught of her absence at the time.

"Oh," Professor Snape remarked just as she was sitting down, "and that will be fifteen points from Gryffindor and a week's detention starting tomorrow."

"But sir," Hermione protested, "I have head duties ––"

"Which," he replied with a gleam in his eyes, "I'm sure the head boy will be able to shoulder since you obviously cannot handle the responsibilities as proven by your blatant disregard for being prompt to my class. Mr. Malfoy is perfectly capable of managing without you, am I right, Draco?"

Draco, who had been chuckling with his cohorts at Hermione's expense, looked up at this and replied oh-so-sweetly, "Of course, Professor."

Snape tightened his thin lips in what was obviously a look of smugness. "If we are done here, Miss Granger, I would like to continue with my class. All of you are aware of what we shall be doing, save for one." He gave a pointed look at Hermione. Just as quickly as the look came, it was snatched away as Snape regarded the rest of the class. "To work."

She turned to Neville who seemed to be getting more nervous by the second and asked, "What potion are we brewing today?"

He gulped and replied, "A paralysis potion. Professor Snape said that it should only last ten minutes…if we brew it correctly."

Hermione didn't want to think of the consequences if they didn't brew it properly, but instead set her mind to the task at hand: Trying to keep Neville from ruining the potion.

Barely fifteen minutes in had she stopped him from adding the newt tail when he should have been stirring in the bat wing, stirring an extra counterclockwise stir when he should have stopped at twelve, and adding a raven feather when he should have been cutting up the newt tail. By the half hour mark, she was exhausted. So perhaps that could explain why she wasn't able to stop Neville from pouring in the whole vial of essence of venomous tentacula. As she saw him putting it in, she reached out and leaned in with a gasp of horror. But nothing could stop gravity as it pulled the steaming liquid from its container into the cauldron.

In a split second, time seemed to slow, but only for the tiniest moment. Then, like the snapping back of a rubber band, it returned with a bang. Literally.

Hermione's eyes opened and she realized she was on the dungeon floor. Then she realized she couldn't move.

"Hermione! Hermione!" Ron's voice sounded from behind her. Rolling her eyes up, she saw him leaning over her with a frantic expression. Then she remembered what had happened. The burgeoning potion had not liked the essence of venomous tentacula and had exploded in her face. Apparently in Neville's face too, seeing another leg near her arm. Thank goodness the liquid had evaporated so quickly since she didn't think she could handle being covered in muck on top of her prone position on the floor.

A shadow crossed her vision and Snape strode through the throng of students that had gathered around the unfortunate pair that had not brewed their potion correctly. Leering over them, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Unfortunate, really, very unfortunate. However, if you would read the last few instructions on the board––oh wait, you are unable. Well, Miss Parkinson, if you would recite step fourteen?"

Pansy's face reflected her glee. "Of course, Professor. 'Take only one drop of essence of venomous tentacula and dilute it in salt solution before adding to brewing potion.'"

"Very good, Miss Parkinson, take five points for Slytherin."

Regarding the pair on the floor, Snape just smirked. "Though, you two did manage to brew the potion far enough to warrant the paralysis effect, so I will grant five points to Gryffindor."

The Gryffindors were shocked; they dared not move, so as not to disturb this strange scene where Snape was _rewarding Gryffindors_.

"_However,_" Snape continued, the malevolent gaze of his unwavering, "since the desired result of the potion was to be quick and unnoticeable, you have failed in that particular aspect." He pursed his lips and enunciated each syllable, "That will be ten points from Gryffindor–" Just as half the class started to groan, he added in the same breath, "_For each of you_." That was the typical Snape everyone knew and loathed.

Hermione lay there, seething, as the rest of the students returned to their potions. There was the occasional giggle, but for the most part, she and Neville were content to simply lie there, as inconspicuous as possible (not that they had a choice about the lying there part). Finally, as the class was bottling their results, Hermione felt the effects of the paralysis potion begin to wear off. She twitched first one finger, then a few others, slowly beginning to clench her hand. Oh this was torturous.

As Malfoy walked by her, he and his friends made a show of not noticing her lying on the floor and proceeded to trip over her on the way to his cauldron (though it was more of a kick than actually tripping).

Not too long after, she felt the tingling grow in her fingertips and toes, then a to slow trickle down her legs and arms and finally to a cold wave through her torso and down her back that brought her shivering to mobility. Her neck was the last to regain movement, and she slowly sat up, blood rushing to her head. With a quick stretch she started to her feet just as the rest of the class was filing out. Ron and Harry gave her a hand up and she brushed off the dungeon floor filth. And finally she turned to the poor chap who had got her in that predicament to start with. Neville was lying on the floor, seemingly still paralyzed.

Snape cleared his throat and the trio turned to him. "It seems Mr. Longbottom has suffered a more potent blow of the potion. I suggest you get him to the hospital wing. Though, the world is most likely a safer place with him in this state." Before anyone could say a word, he had retreated to his quarters, closing the door behind his flowing robes.

Hermione sighed, lifted her wand and muttered the incantation, _Levicorpus_, lifting Neville into the air so they could take him to the caring Madame Pomfrey.

* * *

Walking out of the infirmary with Harry and Ron to lunch, Hermione pulled out a small compact and, noticing her partial lack of eyebrows, swore under her breath. Unfortunately, as she was performing a hair regrowth spell, Pansy Parkinson passed by at that moment. She was just in time to witness Hermione getting the bushiest eyebrows ever right before shrinking them back to normal.

"I'd be careful, Granger," she quipped maliciously around her chortles of laughter. "Unattractive as you are, you can't afford to accentuate any part of you. Squirrels above your eyes are certainly one of those things."

"Then I would be worried about your quite unattractive laugh," Hermione shot back. She was in quite a testy mood. "With those snorts and that snout of a nose, be careful that no one tries to butcher you."

"Is that a threat, Granger?" Pansy narrowed her eyes.

Hermione smiled deadly sweet. "Why, of course not. Why ever would I want to hurt you?" Pansy gave a piercing look that Hermione returned with ease. She was probably just jealous that her precious boytoy was living within the same living space as her. _Not that I begrudge her the opportunity whatsoever._

Pansy was the first to break, giving a small scoff and turning about face to walk away with her minions. As she left, the trio heard her say, "I've heard that she's slept with any guy who she can get to look at her. Good thing Draco is far beyond that Mudblood's reach or I would actually be worried."

Her best friends bristled at the comment, but Hermione put her hands on their shoulders. As Pansy was guffawing, Hermione whispered an inaudible incantation and flicked her wand in the direction of her back.

Ron, seeing this motion, asked, "What was that?"

Hermione grinned, "Three, two, one…"

Suddenly, and quite silently, something began growing out of Pansy's rear end. Yes, Hermione Granger, Head Girl, had caused a small curly, pig's tail to grow from Pansy Parkinson's backside.

The girl shrieked as she turned her torso to witness the offending addition to her tail bone that had punched holes through her clothes to wave threateningly in the air like a tiny pink flag. Not wasting any more time, her face bright red, she covered her buttocks with the books in her hand. Then she turned tail (pun intended) and hurried past Hermione, Harry and Ron to Madame Pomfrey's yelling, "You'll pay for this Granger! Mark my words, you'll pay!" Hermione only quirked an eyebrow and scoffed.

Ron was the first to speak, saying, "That was some handy spellwork, 'Mione." Harry had broken into peals of laughter and recounted a similar incident involving Dudley and Hagrid's pink umbrella on his eleventh birthday.

As their laughter died down, Harry took on a more serious expression. "Well you're in trouble now, Hermione. Is everything okay? I mean, first you're late to potions, and now you hex Parkinson? I know you've had a rough morning, but it just seems unlike you, that's all. What do you think, Ron?"

Ron just shrugged and looked at Hermione who had a small furrow in her brow. Sighing, she responded with care to avoid having to share what had happened last night. "I guess the ferret is getting to me, that's all."

Both Harry and Ron bridled with anger. "Just tell us what he's done to you and we promise we'll sort him out," Ron volunteered, his posture suggesting him ready to spring into action, Harry similarly posed.

Hermione smiled at her loyal friends. "It's alright, guys, really. We're just getting to know each other is all. I promise I'm fine. I'll tell you if anything happens, okay?" Reluctantly, the hotheaded boys relaxed.

Unfortunately for them, they did indeed have need to be worried since they finally noticed Professor McGonagall behind them, and she did not look entirely pleased at all.

_**Well that's all for today, folks! But please review and a new chapter should be coming your way soon!**_


	8. Trouble is a Friend of Mine

_**Wow, it has been a really long time. I'm so sorry to the dear readers who asked for new chapters such a long time ago and I profusely thank those who will keep reading this story even though it's basically been a yearly update (hopefully not anymore!). By the way, the title to this chapter is a song by Lenka.**_

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or settings (to my utter sadness). All of the wondrous world of Harry Potter belongs to the illustrious J. K. Rowling. Everything else is the result of her characters talking in my head and telling me to write this stuff down. (Quiet, Dobby! I promise to put you in a proper scene later!)**

_Unfortunately for them, they did indeed have need to be worried since they finally noticed Professor McGonagall behind them, and she did not look entirely pleased at all._

Her lips were pursed and her green eyes were locked on Hermione. "I would like to see you in my office. No," she added seeing Harry and Ron begin to follow their friend, "just Miss Granger."

Making it to her office, Professor McGonagall closed the door behind her and placed herself in the tall, winged chair behind a large mahogany desk. "Please, have a seat, Miss Granger."

"Professor, I'm so sorry, I don't know—"

"It's alright, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall waved her hand. "We've all resorted to magic at some point when angered. I'm certainly not saying that magic is there to solve all conflicts, or that all magic is appropriate. I trust you understand the difference?" She motioned again for Hermione to sit.

Hermione nodded and lowered herself into the armchair in front of the desk.

A small smile brushed the elder woman's lips. "When I was in my sixth year, a particularly malicious Hufflepuff girl thrived on all forms of gossip, listening around corners for all the juicy stories of the school whether or not they were verified as fact.

"Well, one day she overheard my discussion with a fellow student on the pros and cons of muggle contraception. She then came to the ridiculous conclusion that I was with child and, to add insult to injury, that the 'father' of said child was a married, muggle man. She proceeded to circulate this insidious tale throughout the school. I'm sure you can imagine my feelings toward her at the time."

Hermione could and did. She was still in a daze, however, trying to picture Professor McGonagall as a sixth year. Quickly she realized the woman was speaking again.

"And so the next time I saw that girl, I transfigured her ears to a donkey's and cast a blocking spell that would render her deaf for a week. Our infirmary nurse was able to change her ears back, but to my secret delight, Eloise remained hard of hearing for six days. In that time, the hallways were surprisingly quiet without the poisonous buzz of gossip."

Hermione felt like a stunning spell had hit her square in the chest. "P-Professor?"

Professor McGonagall chuckled softly. "Oh yes, Miss Granger, I understand completely. Yet it appears my actions had little effect other than the short term for young Eloise Skeartren. In fact, I have heard she is thriving upon the gossip business, though she goes by different name now. You may have heard of her, Rita Skeeter?"

Now a little more than shocked, Hermione didn't have to explain her confusion to the older woman who responded to her questioning look. "Ah yes, youth potions are quite coveted, but I suppose hers actually works.

"I don't believe anyone else knows about this. We had all thought her lost in the First Wizarding War, but it was Professor Dumbledore who noticed her secret first. He has that ability, you see, to detect or see through magical artifacts. I believe Mr. Potter knows this fact? Well, he did not divulge his knowledge to Miss Skeeter, but made her true identity known to me a few years back. Her lies had got to a point where I was almost ready to, as you say, 'spill the beans' –– it was your fourth year, was it? –– until her distasteful journalism seemed to be at an end, or at least arrived at a better and more tolerable state than before given her first truthful article on Mr. Potter that one time."

Hermione allowed herself a small, triumphant smile. The professor caught onto that, smiling in turn. "I figured you had something to do with it, Miss Granger.

"In any case, Professor Dippet still made me Head Girl in my seventh year. So I see no reason to punish you for doing something less permanent than I did but for an equally serious reason. As I recall, Miss Parkinson called you a particularly nasty term that would have garnered her a detention anyway. But I still have to give you some form of punishment, so perhaps one night under Madame Pince? I hear she is restocking the restricted section." The old woman's eyes crinkled at the corners.

Hermione glowed with affection for her House mistress. Professor McGonagall added, "Also, I will have to take five points from Gryffindor—" Hermione looked crestfallen at forcing their house-mistress to take points from her own house. " —but I feel I must give you ten points for some excellent wandless spellwork." Hermione grinned.

After being dismissed, Hermione headed back to her rooms to drop off her extra books before heading to a rushed lunch. But there was someone waiting for her as she entered the common room.

Malfoy stepped out from behind the bookcase to her right and backed her into the opposite one.

"What the fuck did you do to Pansy?" he shouted, his grey eyes ablaze with anger.

Hermione tried to muster up the confidence within her as she replied, "I thought it was obvious. I simply revealed the swine within."

Draco snarled and slammed a fist into one of the shelves causing a few books to fall to the floor. "As if I didn't have enough to deal with before, now you've gone and made the girl into a hysterical mess."

"What do you want me to do, Malfoy, huh?" Hermione was finding it quite difficult to form coherent thoughts with her best friend's mortal enemy's arms on either side of her body preventing her from moving. "You should feel lucky that's all I did to her. I've had enough of her supercilious attitude. It's obvious that the only reason she feels the need to make fun of me is so that she can feel superior in some aspect of her life since she is clearly quite lacking in many others!"

She had to take a breath after that speech, but was quite prepared to continue to defend herself when she noticed something strange. It looked like… no, it couldn't be. Was that a hint of a smile on Draco Malfoy's face?

"Do you really care about what Pansy is feeling at the moment or are you just worried about how you'll handle her?"

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"It is if you make it mine." She nodded to the arms still entrapping her body. Draco started then lowered his arms, shaking them slightly as if he hadn't been aware they were raised that whole time. Hermione remained in front of him, looking at him as he focused on a spot just above her head.

"She is my bride-to-be," he stated simply. "Our marriage was arranged since we were children."

Hermione wasn't entirely shocked, but hearing him admit this fact to her… "How long have you known?"

"Since my fifth year."

Nothing was said for a short pause, but Draco broke the stillness, turning away from Hermione. As he stepped away from her, he mentioned, "The old cod left us a message." He gestured to the scroll of parchment that was rolled up on the table. "I haven't opened it yet. I had my arms full." There was a slight grimace and look of accusation on his face, but Hermione only shrugged, hiding a small smile, and Malfoy seemed to back down.

Hermione stooped to pick up the letter on the low table and, upon perusing the contents, promptly sat down on the nearest sofa, mouth agape.

"What is it?" Draco asked, not hearing anything from the young witch for a while. _What could it be to render the usually talkative Granger silent,_ he wondered. A thousand thoughts bombarded his mind. They were being asked to step down…Dumbledore was retiring and placing Hermione in charge…they were responsible for teaching the first years how to cultivate flobberworms. He was roused from his musings by Hermione speaking.

"I—we—have to plan…a ball." Malfoy groaned. Much worse.

* * *

"What do you mean, a ball?!" Malfoy demanded.

"That's exactly what I mean! We have to plan and host a damn ball!" She shoved the letter in his general direction and he snatched it out of her hand.

_Dear Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy,_

_I am happy to inform you that the school staff has granted permission for all 5th, 6th, and 7th year students to attend a Winter Ball. As Head Girl and Boy, not only will you be responsible for attending this dance (together, of course), you will be in charge of planning and organizing this fabulous event. All the Heads of Houses will be more than happy to assist you in these endeavors and you are granted full control of the castle elves on this day. You may present your proposal a week from Tuesday, 6 p.m. in my office. I wish you the best of luck and hope that you will enjoy yourselves!_

_Yours truly,_

_Professor Dumbledore_

Though she detested the idea of working at all with that ferret, her mind worked in such a way that she automatically began churning out ideas. They could hire a disc jockey, decorate the Great Hall in a Christmas/Winter theme… But what would they wear? It should definitely be formal—

Malfoy interrupted her train of thought, "I think we both know who will be doing most of the planning for this one…me."

"Me," Hermione said at the same time. She did a double-take when she realized what he said. "Wait, what?"

"Of course, Granger. You may be an insufferable bookworm, know-it-all, but you have absolutely no experience throwing a _wizard's_ party. I, on the other hand, am well versed in hosting extravagant, magical gatherings. Trust me. You won't have a clue with your pathetic, Muggleborn upbringing."

Hermione was absolutely indignant. "How could you…What makes you think…How dare—"

With one hand Malfoy stopped her sputtered outburst. "Do you know which charms can ensure food freshness, or what the hottest wizard bands are, or even typical attire to an affair like this?" He waited a beat before saying, "I thought not."

"But I can learn—" Hermione tried to say as she found her voice again.

"We don't have time for you to be scouring through your stupid books. We need a proposal in a week." He turned to head into his room, but stopped to say back to her, "But don't worry, I'll let you help me." Then he left, the most satisfied smirk on his face.

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. She supposed he was correct in thinking that she would not be accustomed to wizard "soirees", but did that really mean she was to sit on the sidelines for this? No. That was not the Hermione Granger way. She refused to let that slimy git ruin her perfect year.

And it was supposed to be perfect, wasn't it? When Harry had finally bested Voldemort in that duel to the death, it was as if the world could breathe a sigh of relief. Those who had fought for years to see his reign of terror come to an end breathed the biggest sighs, Hermione included. It was as if her world had been a centrifuge that spun her around and around to the point that, when it finally stopped, she had no idea where she was anymore, or even _who_ she was. How could she go back from being a battle-worn fighter to her old bookish self? It was as if the end of the war had stripped away her very drive.

Hogwarts had been her place of refuge for all those six years and she was horrified to realize that her heroism with Ron and Harry had led to her missing her last year of school. For all intents and purposes, she was a graduate, having passed her O.W.L.s with flying colors, but her incomplete N.E.W.T.s loomed over her like a menacing storm cloud. One could not imagine the exultation felt by the frizzy-haired girl as she received a letter at the very end of the summer telling her that she could return to Hogwarts to finish her education and complete her exams. She was also surprised but ecstatic to see an invitation to be Head Girl as well. According to the letter, both the Head Girl and Boy who were supposed to take this spot for their own seventh year respectfully declined the offer in lieu of the battle heroes' return. It was a touching gesture to say the least. Perhaps this was what she needed: a "return to normalcy" as America's late President Harding had so rightly put it. She could find a new purpose in life and enjoy her last year of school while she was at it.

But never had she thought in those days leading up to September 1st that she would be sharing a living area and so much of her bloody time with that stinking ferret. And she had already spent too much time thinking about him now. Actually, she was quite hungry since she had spent her lunch in McGonagall's office and then with an irate Malfoy. Instead of calling one of the castle elves into the sitting room, Hermione decided a walk was in order. She had some time to herself until Care of Magical Creatures at two and the twins had so graciously pointed out the entrance to the kitchens a few years back, so she set off.

She emerged from the painting of the bowl of fruit a little while later. The castle elves had pushed food at her and she walked out with full arms and belly. Long ago, Hermione had given up SPEW when Dobby and friends had sat her down and explained their situation and their views on the matter. Not that Hermione had paid much attention… until her hunger got the better of her after her fourth day of ignoring food from the castle kitchen. After that, she realized her folly and began to hope to use the law to these creatures' advantages in the future. Eventually she could defend those elves that had been wrongfully treated by wizards.

Mulling over a possible future, one arm wrapped around a basket of baked goods and her other hand holding a half-eaten muffin, she was unable to notice or defend herself when a hand reached out to grab her hair from behind a corner she was just about to round. She suddenly found herself facing an absolutely fuming Pansy Parkinson, all movement impeded by the death grip her extensive locks were now experiencing.

_**That's all for now folks! Please let me know what you think, it's your reviews that keep me going! Also, I do have one or two more chapters before the ball planned, but I want to hear from you. Any ideas for what sort of event this should be? I have a few (don't worry) but I want to hear your thoughts!**_


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